I must confess I expected my entrance into Australia to be met with significant fanfare at the immigration counter. A new immigrant (me!) to Australia has arrived! Typically the immigrations officer will ask what your visit is about, so when I approached the counter I announced that I was immigrating to Australia, which is a obviously a huge freaking deal to me! The immigration officer could care less. She glanced at my visa, handed my passport back to me and shuffled me through. I was in disbelief! Surely my arrival could not be that anti-climactic! I had anticipated at least some level of challenge that my visa was in fact legit, or at the very least a gesture of welcome. Oh well, Susan made up for the lack luster immigration non-event. She and Gary (a good friend of the family and the owner of an all-important truck that we desperately needed to lug my suitcases to my new home) were on the other side of customs to greet me and welcome me to my new life.
Our house is on a property called “Woodstock”. It is wee. How wee? About 400-square-foot wee. 700 square feet if you count the verandahs, Susan reminds me. So we do count the verandahs. It makes the house feel more spacious in our heads. Susan was very gracious as I unloaded my eight suitcases, although I suspect she was really wondering how the hell everything was going to fit. But so far, so good at finding creative nooks and crannies for my things. I will take a drive to the IKEA store (about 1 1/2 hours north) sometime in the next few weeks to find treasures to organize our stuff in.
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